Price of Fame
by illaiyna
Summary: She was beautiful, mysterious, messed up and a famous songwriter. He was moody, stressed, talented and a nobody. She made him become someone. He made her become herself. Gendrya, Modern and Musical AU


**Title: **Price of Fame

**Summary: **She was beautiful, mysterious, messed up and a famous songwriter. He was moody, stressed, talented and a nobody. She made him become someone. He made her become herself.

* * *

**Chapter I**

The apartment smelt of an expensive cleaning detergent with a hint of stale smoke. Part of Arya Stark was pleased that she could still smell the cigarette smoke while her whole body was huddled under the covers of her bed. She knew that the maid would have had a hard time spraying the putrid scent all around her messy apartment but she couldn't care less. It wasn't Arya who payed the nagging maid.

_Tomorrow_, she thought, _tomorrow I'll do it and it'll all be over_.

She stayed huddled under the covers, thinking the same thing over and over again for another half hour, even though she had a meeting with bloody Cersei Lannister at one o'clock. It was nearly noon, or at least that was what her rather fancy phone told her. Her phone also had a slightly angry text from the damn maid, stating simply that she knew Arya had smoked inside and she would be telling Cersei.

"See if I care," Arya muttered under her breath, finally pushing off the comfortable covers and stretching ungracefully. She was grateful for the fact that her apartment had no carpet, simply because she hated feeling _warm_. It was mostly due to the fact that Arya had grown up in cold, oddly fascinating and beautiful Winterfell. Now, though, she was living in King's Landing, where the pollution made cigarette smoke seem like a Chanel No. 5 bottle of perfume. Even though the weather couldn't be considered warm, it was no where near as cold as Winterfell, where it would often snow in autumn.

Arya walked around her apartment in bare feet, going to the much too big kitchen which she rarely used. She could count the amount of times she had used the oven on one hand. The microwave, the coffee machine and the fridge were the only items in the kitchen she ever used. Besides, it felt lonely to stand on a freshly cleaned tiled floor and look around an empty kitchen. It was far more exciting to lie on a couch and watch murder mysterious on T.V, pretending that someone would be home and cook a five course meal for her soon.

The coffee tasted bitter to her, just how Arya liked it, but it held a sense of almost doom. _Yes, because a cup of coffee can tell my future, _she thought, amused at her thoughts. Still, she didn't need coffee to tell her that it was going to be a bad day. _Most_ days were horrible anyway but today...today would be even worse than usual. The very thought of meeting up with the glamorous and sophisticated Cersei Lannister – Arya still couldn't believe the woman had once requested that she call her _mum_ – and her dreadful son, Joffrey Baratheon, was enough to make one crawl under their bed and never come out. Yet Sansa would be there, her sister, and it was a sister's duty to make sure their fellow sibling was okay, something Arya planned to do.

Despite hating the maid, Cersei and strict orders, she still took her cigarette packet outside and smoked on the balcony, somehow enjoying the annoying view of a bright sun and blue sky. Arya wasn't a morning person by anyone's standards and the idea of standing outside smoking at six o'clock in the morning before anyone in King's Landing was awake didn't bring any joy or excitement to her. _It sounds stupid,_ she thought.

Once she finished the cigarette and hid the remains in an empty beer bottle behind a pot plant Arya chewed two strips of gum and sprayed a heavy perfume all around her body, trying to eliminate even the smallest of whiffs of the smell. Cersei had always been prudent about behaviour, which was why Sansa was the definite favourite in the little 'family'. It still hurt to call their stupid thing a family because it was far from it. Just because there had been no one else to go to and Robb hadn't been of age didn't mean that Cersei Lannister was her _mother_. Even now, Arya didn't beat around the bush. The only reason she hadn't left the Lannister's and relinquished their tight hold on her was because of her _career_.

_And even if that's quickly fading_, she thought sadly. Her career had been the only thing she had cared about when her parents were found dead. _It's the only that keeps me sane. It's the only thing. _Singing, playing guitar, more singing…it soon turned into more than a hobby when Cersei found out.

"You can _sing?_" the ghastly woman had demanded, her elegant face scrunched up in thought. "I thought Sansa was the only one…"

It had taken only a few months for a contract to go through to Tywin Lannister, grand producer of Lion Corporation, one of the most award winning contractors of budding musical talent. Suddenly Arya had found herself thrown into the rather horrible music industry where too many things were demanded of her. At that point, she had been only sixteen and Robb had been of age. Yet her older brother left without warning with Bran and Rickon, leaving her and Sansa to defend for themselves. Jon left as well to join an underground hip hop group that seemed to have absolutely no return. And Sansa had _wanted_ to stay in the delusional family that the Lannisters had created for them.

Now, she hadn't released a new album in three years, and the paparazzi were all over her recent fallings. The amount of times she had seen _'Arya Stark Caught Smoking Weed' _on the front cover of various magazines was too great. Some parts of it were true, though, as she often tried to tell Cersei and even Tywin when he graced her with his stupid presence. They never believed her and she found she didn't care. She loathed spending time with the Lannisters, except maybe for Tyrion, who seemed to understand her love for alcohol and all other destructive things.

Which was precisely why she dreaded going to see what Cersei Lannister wanted because it wasn't going to be good. The last time she had been called like this – rudely and told by some assistant by a bloody text – was when Sansa had announced her wedding to Joffrey a year ago. That had been horrible and had ended in screaming and shouting and now that Arya thought about she was sure that she had punched Joffrey.

_It doesn't matter_, she thought calmly, despite the raging emotions in her head. _It will all be over soon. I'll talk to her about whatever and then leave. And then tomorrow everything will be fine._ That was what Arya told herself as she sucked her stomach in to fit into a knee length pencil skirt and a pretty blouse that had too much of a neckline. When she chucked her hair into a tight bun on the top of her head and slipped on sunglasses she still said it to herself. It became her mantra as she called and waited for a taxi outside the apartment complex. By the time Arya arrived outside the glamorous building of Lion Corporation any thoughts of cigarettes or ditching the meeting were miraculously gone.

One of the stupidest looking secretary she had ever met greeted her at the automatic doors. He was definitely a Lannister, with his luscious golden hair and green eyes, though he lacked the obvious spike Tywin and his children had. The man, who had said 'just call me Lancel' led her into the elevator, which then issued an awkward silence.

"So…" Just-Call-Me Lancel said, his voice long and droning and incredibly boring. "Are you ever going to release another album? I was a big fan of your first one and your second one was—"

"I don't care," Arya told him bluntly. _That's what everyone says as if it would help me to write more songs_.

"Well, I was just curious. Naturally it's perfectly alright if you don't want to release another album, perfectly alright…" His voice trailed off as the familiar ping from the elevator let them know it was their floor. Never had Arya been so glad in her life to get off an elevator. She practically led the way to Cersei's office, leaving poor bloody Lancel to hurry after her.

When Arya opened the door she hated what she saw almost instantly. Cersei was, as usual, doting over Sansa, who sat elegantly beside Joffrey. The three looked up the second she came in though, and stopped all conversations.

"Arya," Cersei greeted coolly, nodding at her yet making no effort to stand up.

_I don't care_, Arya thought as she sat down in the spare seat next to Sansa and didn't bother to take off her sunglasses. She knew it was considered rude and that was half the point. Her sister attempted to give her a comforting smile but she ignored it. Beside her sister was Joffrey, glaring at her with those malicious blue eyes that Sansa somehow found incredibly attractive.

"You're late," her sister's husband snapped, his ugly jaw clenching. "You were meant to be here at _exactly_ one o'clock."

"It seemed to me that you were having a blast without me," Arya retorted, crossing her legs and trying to ignore the fact that her skirt reached her knees. _What type of person wears a skirt that reaches their knees? _she thought, bemused.

Joffrey opened his mouth to undoubtedly say something foul but Cersei smoothly interrupted him from doing so. "It doesn't matter now, darling, does it? We're all here now, so we can finally discuss it."

"Discuss what?" Arya asked, not bothering to keep her tone even and polite. She had given up on that long ago.

"The fact that the press is all over your recent…failures. It's reflecting on all of us. The whole company is being blamed for _your_ problems," Joffrey said nastily, his chin tilted up as if to look down on her.

"You need to pull your act together," Cersei corrected, glaring slightly at her son. "I don't want the company to be a representation of your behaviour."

"_What_ behaviour? Half of its bullshit. You think I actually go out every night and smoke weed? Ask Sansa, she knows."

Almost at once, her sister became a blank mask. The usual passive smile on her face faded instantly and she hid behind her hair as Cersei and Joffrey's piercing gaze turned to her. It always happened when Joffrey and Cersei turned on her. Her sister would hide behind a mask and not reveal her true self.

"I…well, no, Arya doesn't do those things," Sansa mumbled, her words incoherent and quiet.

"Speak up, little dove," Cersei insisted gently, her smile becoming kinder and warmer when speaking to her sister.

"Arya would never do something like that," Sansa repeated, her voice still rather quiet.

There was a small silence after that, in which both of the Lannisters seem to stare at her sister as if to threaten her. _Like she would lie_, Arya thought smugly, _most of the time I'm pretty clean_.

"She's lying," Joffrey announced confidently. "I have my sources."

"It doesn't matter, anyhow," Cersei said quickly. "That's not what I called you here to talk about."

"Oh?" Arya couldn't help but roll her eyes inwardly at the quick and deliberate change of subject.

"You're falling in the music industry. Your last album was released some time ago, and we think you need to release another one. It doesn't matter what it is. We all know your silly obsession with hip hop."

"I clearly remember your husband liking hip hop. I also clearly remember you not releasing an album for three years as well," Arya pointed out casually.

Cersei stiffened visibly, her perfect posture becoming tense. "That's different," she said coldly, "and we aren't here to talk about me. You need to start working on an album. Surely you have something tucked away in that smoke filled apartment of yours?"

Of course she had something. She had a whole scrapbook filled with scrawled out lyrics, filled with things that she couldn't say but instead wanted to sing or rap. Yet those were things that no one should know, especially not the whole music industry that were already changing her into someone completely different, someone she didn't recognise. It wasn't her fault that the media latched onto her failures and the fact that she hadn't released an album in three years.

"No," Arya lied easily, "there's not really anything. Even if there was, I wouldn't want it out there. It's mostly personal stuff."

"Maybe that's what the world wants," Sansa said quietly surprising them all. "Maybe they want to know what's happened."

"About what?"

Her sister's eyes narrowed a fraction. "You know what I mean." There was the Sansa she knew, the one who knew her inside out and the one who could talk about any problem and do her best to fix it.

Arya controlled the childish urge to bite her lip, an old habit that she still hadn't managed to get rid of, just like smoking. She did know what Sansa meant but that didn't mean she wanted to tell the world. They didn't need to know about the messy clutter of emotions that had swirled through her head when her parents had died. They didn't need to know about why she moved to underground hip hop even when that was the thing that had partly gotten Catelyn and Ned Stark killed. They didn't need to know that some days she didn't want to get out of bed because life was so pointless and mundane now.

More importantly, they didn't need to know anything about how she was feeling at the current moment or any moments before that.

"I don't care what happens," Cersei said tiredly, "As long as a new album is released, something to give Lion Corporation a big boom, it doesn't matter. Just work on it, Arya."

She couldn't help it. Her face contorted into a large snarl, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Why don't you let your little auto-tune prince over there to make another shit album? Even though it sucks, people seem to like it." Arya got up from her seat, not bothering to adjust her annoying knee length skirt. She waltzed away, head held high even when Joffrey began shouting obscenities at her and Cersei yelled at her to come back.

Just-Call-Me Lancel seemed unsurprised to see her as she walked passed him yet either way the stupid Lannister hurried after her.

"Is everything okay?" he asked as they reached the elevator.

Arya turned to him. "Go back to your desk," she replied coolly. "You're a receptionist." She knew she was pulling the famous card, something she rarely did. If anything, she hated reminding herself that she was plastered onto various front covers of magazines, her face obviously photo shopped.

The elevator finally arrived with a small ping and to her relief Lancel Lannister didn't bother following her inside. Instead, when the doors were just about to close shut firmly a small but perfectly manicured hand stopped them.

"Sansa," Arya greeted, keeping her tone even. She felt rather sorry for her sister in a way.

Her sister smiled, stepping into the elevator gracefully. As usual, Arya felt the small twang of jealously as she saw Sansa's perfect auburn hair twisted into a tight knot at the top of her hair, her perfect complexion and make up, her stunning outfit and everything about her.

"I'm sorry about all that," Sansa said as the elevator went down. "You know it's true, though. You need to release another album."

Arya shrugged carelessly. "Why should it be me? Cersei even said that it doesn't matter who."

"Who else would it be? I released an album nearly six months ago, as did Joffrey. The press doesn't want anything more from us. It would be considered old and boring if we did," her sister informed her.

"Who gives a fuck what the press thinks? _That's_ why I hate this…job. It's all about impressing people. I just want to write music."

"Something you haven't been doing much of lately, it seems."

Arya glared at her sister. "Stop pretending," she snapped before getting out of the elevator as it stopped at the ground floor. She watched her sister wave kindly to one of the receptionists before they were suddenly out in the big filthy city of King's Landing.

"I pretend? So do you, Arya. It's not like you're the only one in this whole world who has something to hide. So what you like hip hop? Is it that shameful?" Sansa asked as they walked to some unknown destination.

"It killed our parents."

There was a silence and her sister suddenly stopped walking, turning to face her angrily.

"_Music_ didn't kill our parents. Guns did."

"I don't care. Either way, if dad hadn't gotten involved in underground hip hop then they wouldn't be dead. It's..." Arya stopped suddenly. _I nearly said that it was my dad's fault…_ Angry at herself all over again, she reached into her pockets for her lighter and cigarette packet and found herself disappointed when she saw there was only one left.

"You'll stop after that packet, won't you?" Sansa's voice sounded strange and distorted.

"Yeah, sure." Arya quickly lit the cigarette and put it to the tip of her lips, inhaling deeply. She felt the stress slowly but surely leave her body.

They walked for silence once more, and Arya had a feeling her sister was leading her on an impromptu shopping trip, something she hated. Either way, she let Sansa guide her through the large city while she smoked her cigarette and tapped away ash every now and then.

"Are you going to release an album, then? Maybe some of your old pieces. I remember them quite well. You didn't put them in your second album or add them as bonus tracks," Sansa said, striking up the conversation yet again.

"Can we drop this?" Arya asked, her voice strangely calm. "Look, I know…but…" She stopped walking for a second as an idea came to her. "Wait. Sansa…stop."

Her sister did so, tilting her perfect face to look down at her clearly. "What is it?"

"Do you remember when Cersei stopped singing all those years ago? When mum and dad were still alive?"

"Of course," Sansa replied. "You even had the audacity to bring that up today," she added dryly.

"Doesn't matter about that. What I'm saying is when Cersei stopped releasing any songs or whatever, she found someone else. Like gave that girl the contract…don't you remember? She found that Marina Tyrell girl or whatever."

"Margaery," her sister corrected absently. "Yes, I do remember. You're not trying to say that you want to find someone, are you?"

"Why not? Wouldn't it work? If I found someone way talented to sign up with Lion Corporations and get them a contract, it would work. I could train them." The idea seemed so exciting to Arya, so different. It also meant that she wouldn't have to release any of her hidden songs which was an extra bonus.

"Cersei will scream and have a fit if it's a rapper," Sansa pointed out. "She's not a fan ever since Robert died."

"I'm still not sure if that's because of shame or sadness."

"_Arya_," her sister reprimanded, but there was a perfect smile on her sister's face which made Arya happy.

"I'll check the underground. There's a lot of hidden talent there. If Cersei really despises hip hop that much I'll check out what's on YouTube. If I offered _anyone_ a contract with Lion Corporation they'd accept. Who wouldn't?" Arya added, a smile on her face as she thought about it. Her stress levels were practically at zero, even though they usually instantly rose after finishing a cigarette.

"I suppose it could work…" Sansa's voice trailed off and Arya watched as her sister began to stare admiringly at a few of the shops that had started to appear. They were nearly in the heart of the city where all the biggest and most famous brands were.

"You can go in, you know," Arya told her, amused.

Her sister flushed suddenly. "No, no, it's fine. I like spending time with you, anyway. It's the only time I can really be myself."

Momentarily shocked by her sister's sudden comment, Arya gaped at her for a moment before quickly recovering. "I know you do. I'm not saying I'll leave. I'll just find a coffee place and wait around here for you. I won't go that far."

"Oh…well, if you say so then." Sansa grinned. "Thanks, Arya. I'll only be about half an hour. This won't be a full on shopping expedition!"

Arya watched as her sister seemed to almost skip into what looked like a particularly expensive shoe shop. _Of course,_ she thought and continued to walk around the heart of the city. It took her only a few minutes to find a Starbucks, which thankfully had a short line. When it was her turn she promptly ordered a large iced coffee to go, making sure to keep her sunglasses firmly pressed to her face so no one would recognize her.

It took awhile for it to arrive but it was definitely worth it when it did. Arya had always loved a good caffeine hit and there was something more appetising about iced coffee than normal coffee. When she was outside in the city she walked around sipping it from its clear plastic cup as she did. There was something strangely alluring about the city of King's Landing, something that Winterfell lacked. _The music_, Arya decided promptly, and it was true. Out here, she could hear beautiful singing, a thick masculine baritone voice and the gentle strumming of guitar. She blinked slightly, confused by her thoughts for she hadn't heard any music before but she did now.

Pure habit made her search for the source, and Arya knew she looked creepy as she peered everywhere, trying to find the singer. It was definitely male. She continued looking, peering around small water fountains and benches until she finally found him nestled in a small side street.

For a moment Arya was mesmerised by the person who sat there on the ground playing guitar. His dark hair hung over his face, hiding it from view but she could still see his eyes which were a deep and mesmerizing blue. He didn't hold his guitar or pick properly, and she could tell by where his fingers were positioned on the guitar when he strummed certain chords that he didn't believe in rules. And his voice…she had never heard such talent before. It was like the first time her half-brother Jon had demanded her to listen to Pink Floyd.

She stared at him uncertainly, wondering if she looked odd just watching this strange man playing guitar. He never once looked up, though, clearly distracted by the music. Even when the occasionally person threw on a coin or a note his face remained on the guitar, his fingers carefully changing between chords. _How is he not famous?_ she thought, scandalized. She knew talent when she heard it and this man clearly had a lot.

Arya was so distracted by his playing that she didn't notice her sister had returned until Sansa tapped her pointedly on the shoulder. She blinked slightly at her sister, still in a daze.

"You alright there?" her sister asked, amused. "Is there something you want in that shop over there?" She pointed to a shop behind the mysterious guitar player which looked fairly decent.

Arya shook her head. "No, not at all. Did you find what you wanted?"

Sansa sighed. "No, I didn't, because Joffrey called in the middle of me trying on a simple gorgeous pair of studded boots. I suppose it doesn't really matter, though. He seemed to think it was urgent, so I best be off."

"Oh…okay. That's fine then."

Both of them stared at each other, unsure what to do. Arya could hear the man starting to play another song, as the rhythm of the song changed. Finally Sansa wrapped her slender arms around Arya's waist, giving her a swift hug. Her sister smiled when she pulled away.

"I'll text you later," Sansa promised as she walked away, waving.

"Yeah, sure." She waved back at her sister, before turning her attention to the mysterious talented man. Arya found a bench and sat down, watching his strong arms hold the guitar and his hands sweep across the strings, her unfinished iced coffee forgotten.

* * *

It had been a rather difficult day for Gendry Waters though he found he didn't mind much. Once he sat down on the asphalt, guitar in his hands and words on his lips he found his thoughts were forgotten easily. Even though he didn't make much money when busking, it didn't bother him. The only thing that bothered him was things like finding shelter under a small roof sticking out of a nearby shop, hiding from the downpour of rain and annoyed that his session had been interrupted by the weather. His hair was already sopping wet, as was his guitar.

Gendry watched people hurry to get out of the rain as he began to shove his guitar into its case, cursing when the zip got stuck. He knew there was no point waiting for the storm to pass. There weren't many more people passing through, as it was a Monday, and besides, he had made enough money. Hopefully his landlord would stop pestering him though Gendry somewhat doubted it.

When he finally zipped up his guitar case tightly and checked his average phone to find no messages, he sighed and stood up only to notice a hand holding a fifty dollar note in his face. Gendry blinked slightly, wondering if he was imagining things, before his eyes finally trailed upwards to find the hand's owner. A girl, no, woman, was standing there, dripping wet. Her hands were long and slender yet the nails were chipped and bitten raw. She had sunglasses on, though, so he couldn't see her face, only the sagging bun that had been messily placed on top of her head. All this didn't match her elegant outfit, which consisted of a knee length skirt and a frilly blouse with a blazer over it.

"What?" Gendry blurted out, unable to control his surprise.

The woman looked like she was frowning at him through the sunglasses. "Is that how you treat people who are giving you a tip?" she snapped, still holding the fifty dollar note.

He stared at it for a moment longer, ignoring the voices in his head that told him to take it. "I don't want it," he told her, turning back to his guitar case. Gendry suddenly felt a hand tightly grip his shoulder and spin him around.

"Excuse me?" she shouted over the rain. "Is that how you…look here, if you don't take the money then I'm going to buy a shit load of cigarettes. You know what they say about each cigarette taking a day off your life or something like that. Therefore it would be _your_ fault if I die earlier than intended."

He blinked, shocked, before the anger kicked in. "It wouldn't be my fault!" he snapped furiously. "I feel uncomfortable taking that kind of money! That's practically everything I made today."

The woman shrugged carelessly. "Call it an investment." Her voice was cold, uninterested as if she didn't just have a small outburst twenty seconds ago.

"An investment? Of what?" Gendry's eyes suddenly narrowed suspiciously. "Look, I'm sorry…I'm sure you're a very pretty and nice woman but—"

"I don't want to fuck you," she told him bluntly and he was pretty sure she was rolling her eyes under the sunglasses.

He opened his mouth to say something but stopped. "Then…what?" he asked, suddenly curious.

The woman rolled her eyes at him yet again. "You're so stupid," she informed him, wiping away some of the drips from her face. "I want you to have lunch with me in the most innocent and professional way you can think of."

"O…kay? In the most innocent and professional way?"

"That means you don't think I want to get in your pants or anything like that. I just want to know your name and then we'll go. Bring your guitar, by the way," the woman said calmly.

Gendry stared at her for a moment, watching her face grow even more impatient. She wasn't really a woman, more a girl, but not a girl either. Even though she looked young it almost looked like there was a weight on her shoulders, even though they were held high.

"Okay," he replied softly and he watched her face become surprised at his response. "I'm Gendry Waters. And you are?"

"Follow me." She ignored his question and instead led the way.

Gendry easily kept pace with her, for she only reached his chin and her legs were shorter than his. She seemed annoyed by this and he thought he saw her eyes narrowing behind those sunglasses. Some part of him felt like she looked familiar but that was impossible. He had never seen this woman in his life.

The fifty dollar note seemed to weigh one hundred pounds as he followed her to wherever they were going. In a way, Gendry felt guilty, though this woman clearly seemed rich. He still didn't understand though. Why would someone come up to a nobody like him and just hand over fifty dollars like that?

"I'm not paying for the lunch," he said suddenly before realizing how incredibly rude that sounded. "I mean—"

"I'm paying," she replied shortly, continuing her brisk stride. "And that was rude."

"Says the woman who won't give me her name."

She ignored his retort and instead shot him a glare through her sunglasses. He had a feeling that it was because she didn't want people to know who she was but why would she do that? It wasn't like she was some five star celebrity.

They finally arrived at what looked like an incredibly expensive café. Gendry didn't say anything as she led the way inside and asked for a table. The waitress looked at them both dubiously and he could see why. Even though the woman or girl or whatever beside him was dressed nicely she clearly hated wearing it. There was also a prominent scowl on her face.

"We'd like a table, please, preferably somewhere private," the woman told the waitress sharply.

"That would be extra," the waitress explained calmly.

"Yeah, sure, whatever. Just put it on the tab."

The waitress led them over to a table in a secluded corner where the woman promptly sat down, sighing. Gendry followed suit, feeling nervous.

"_Finally_," she said, sounding exasperated. "I could really use a cigarette."

He blinked. "Well…just don't have one. You were the only who said—"

"I know what I said," she snapped.

"You keep interrupting me."

For a moment, she looked angry, or at least that was what he thought. Suddenly she took off her sunglasses to reveal stormy grey eyes framed by dark brown eyelashes. They looked entrancing and sophisticated and sad and for a moment he felt lost in them.

"I'm…" The woman hesitated for a moment. "I'm Arya. Arya Stark."

Gendry couldn't breathe for a split second. _Arya Stark is in front of me,_ was his only coherent thoughts. Even those were still panicky and stressed.

"Okay," he heard himself say and he couldn't help but feel relieved that he sounded nothing like how he felt. _She's famous, she's talking to you! She's talking to a stupid nobody like you!_

"Okay?" she repeated. "Wow. I can practically feel my self esteem rising rapidly."

"I just…what do you want me to say? Do you want me to kiss your feet? Lick the ground that you just walked on?"

"No," she snapped. "Of course not. Now can we get on with it?"

Gendry laughed. He couldn't help it. Whenever he saw Arya Stark on the television she looked sophisticated yet there was a hatred and resentment in her eyes as she gazed at the cameras. More often than not the reports on her were bad and the amount of incriminating images he had seen against her was countless. Yet here she was talking to a nobody like him _normally_. It felt nice and different and it made him smile slightly.

"Why the hell are you laughing? Once you hear what I'm about to say you certainly won't be," Arya told him angrily. "Stop laughing and listen you blundering idiot."

He grinned at her which seemed to catch her off guard. "Sorry…I just found it funny. How about we order first, anyway? Don't you want lunch?"

"I don't need it," she dismissed. "If you want to order, you can."

Gendry called the suspicious waitress over and proceeded to order the most expensive things on the menu, which included a pizza which had every ingredient he had ever seen on it. Arya looked irritated though she said nothing.

"And wine," he told the waitress, even though he didn't drink it. "The best you have."

"I doubt you drink wine," she snapped once the waitress at left.

Gendry shrugged. "I don't."

"I thought so." Oddly enough she didn't sound that angry about it. "_Now_ can we talk? I'm sick of waiting. I just want to get this over with."

"Well, sure, I suppose. What is it you wanted to talk to me about…?" He suddenly felt nervous all over again, for this was _Arya Stark_ and even though he had momentarily forgotten that he was beginning to remember it all over again.

"I want to offer you a contract. I want to make you famous. I want the world to see your talent and for you to see what the world has to offer. But I also want you to see all the fuck ups of being famous and all the shit faces you have to deal with." She stared at him, her gaze intense. "Do you want to sign the contract?"

"I…" _What? I…_ She had described it to him like it was something dreadful or sad, yet it seemed nothing but. Just the idea of not having to busk on the streets to pay his meager rent sounded ideal and being…_famous_. Hadn't he wanted to be like that when he was younger and delusional? _But this is no dream…_

"Well?" Arya demanded. "Do you want the contract?"

"With…who?" Gendry asked weakly, clutching the table slightly.

"Lion Corporation. The most famous and popular musical organization there is. I can make you famous, Gendry Waters."

_This cannot be happening. She only saw me play a few songs at least. This has to be some dream. Things like these just don't happen_, he thought. Yet no matter how much he kept screaming at himself to wake up, he didn't. In front of him was still Arya Stark, her stormy blue eyes examining him carefully, her messy bun falling from her head.

"There has to be some sort of catch," Gendry replied carefully.

She smirked at him. "The catch is being famous," she told him, which caused him to frown.

_That's not bad,_ he thought. _That sounds wonderful_. Not that he knew much about being so famous that you were plastered onto nearly every hit magazine in the city.

"So I just sign it and…that's all? I don't get it. Why would you do this?"

Arya rolled her eyes as if the mere effort of telling him a simple thing was too exhausting for her and shrugged her shoulders. "Does there have to be a reason? Can't I just choose someone with talent and go for it?" she asked, clearly annoyed.

"We _just_ met," Gendry said cautiously. "I just feel like…there's some reason for this."

"Look, it's up to you. I don't really care either way." He could tell she was lying when she said that. "Here's my number, take it or leave it. Call me if you choose to sign it and…don't be an idiot about it." Arya flashed him a slight genuine smile before handing him a scrappy piece of paper with a mobile number jotted down onto it.

He stared at it for a moment in her small palm before taking it in his much larger hand. "I'll think about it," he promised before noticing she was getting up. "Aren't you going to eat?"

"Did I order anything?" She sounded amused and placed a fair amount of money on the table that was more than enough for the already expensive lunch. "Keep the change."

"Is this what you do?" Gendry snapped, not bothering to hide his irritation. "Toss money around like it's nothing?"

Arya didn't reply and kept walking, her posture slouched and her gait just as bad. When he heard the café door shot he sighed and stared at the piece of paper in his hand. _This is a dream_, he thought hazily. For what would Arya Stark, the famous yet mysterious messed up singer want with _him_, a nobody off the streets?

* * *

_So this is something I just thought of randomly in my spare time and I was like, why not? I've written fanfiction before but never really posted it so not sure how I'll go haha. Anyway I'm sorry if the way I've set up the characters seem stupid/make no sense to you but that's just how I've planned this story out. Not sure if it's any good or if I'll find time to write it. I had an old account but forgot the password...oh well. Anyway hope you enjoyed haha :)_


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